


Flight

by Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto



Series: The Unnamed Road [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Memoires, Sirius Black POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto/pseuds/Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If reading this helps in any way to makes the journey back home to all of us who care so much about you, feel more within your grasp, writing it has served a worthwhile purpose."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

June Something,   
On the border of Spring and Summer, Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts  
Night… After the third event of the Tri-Wizard Tournament

Dear Harry,

Here’s my last letter to you from this cave. Only waiting for some guys who sound like they’ve had a butter-beer or four down the pub in Hogsmeade, to sing their way further along the road at the foot of this hill. Then, as per Professor Dumbledore’s instructions, Buckbeak and I will set out for Remus Lupin’s, to sound the alarm about tonight’s events.

I won’t pretend to know words of comfort for the death of your companion in the maze, Cedric. Or if they’re what you want or need just yet. I’m not certain trying to offer them so soon is a sign of respect for all you’ve been through. The feelings that come from so much loss and betrayal aren’t sorted out in hours or days. I can tell you that Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, my good friend Remus, your good friends Ron and Hermione, as well as I, your Godfather, will be there for you in every way we can in the days to come. 

I’m glad of only three things tonight. First, that you are out of Voldemort’s hands and safe again under the protection of Albus Dumbledore. Second, I’m being asked to do more to help keep you that way than I’ve been able to do up til now. Third, that I was able to be there with you, stand with you, as you talked about what had happened to you in the maze. 

I’ve wanted to have you with me this summer. After this, I want that even more than ever. Could be complicated by the fact that I haven’t got a place to live yet and my little problem of being a wanted fugitive. My thought was that, til I settle those details, we could get you to your friend Ron’s house. But Albus insists you return to your relatives as soon as summer term ends. I don’t know why this is so, but he assures me it’s for your protection. For the moment, I won’t question it. Not after seeing him passing out instructions tonight. A plan was cooking behind his light blue eyes. With Voldemort’s return out in the open, I’m thinking it’s a way to unite the Wizarding community against him. When Remus and I get the old gang together, I believe Albus will share his plan so we can put it in motion. Stop Voldemort and his Death-Eaters for once and for all. He’s done more than enough harm to a lot of good people who, in one manner or other, got in his way. Like Cedric. Like your parents and so many of their friends and mine. Or like you.

I’m sure you’ve found the folded parchment enclosed with this letter. It’s from the notes I made a while back for Albus, on my time in Azkaban. Something I snatched up in my hurry to clear away all traces of Buckbeak’s and my stay here these past months. I was about to chuck it in the fire, along with some food wrappers and parchments, not to mention a lot of rather tooth-marked copies of the Daily Prophet, then thought better of it. I wanted to get it to you before you leave for your Aunt and Uncle’s home in Privet Drive. If reading this helps in any way to makes the journey back home to all of us who care so much about you, feel more within your grasp, writing it has served a worthwhile purpose. 

* * * * *

FLIGHT

He’s at Hogwarts. He’s at Hogwarts.

I don’t need to look at the paper Cornelius Fudge gave me. It’s folded in the pocket of my prison robes. For the first time in years, my memory has grasped something and held tight. The face peering from that front page photograph is as clear as the lime green bowler Fudge had on when he came here. And I understand what it means. The idea repeats as steady as the unseen waves crashing on the rocks beyond my barred window, or a pulse thrumming in my ears. He’s at Hogwarts. It chases me up from my dreams. I wake hearing the words on my lips. “He’s at Hogwarts!” It shouts me off my cot. Sets a rhythm for my footsteps as I pace back and forth in the stony box of my cell. 

Got to think now. Got to plan. 

Scattered images fill my mind. Memories I hardly knew I had. Old ones, from years ago. Land rising ahead of the boat that brought me here. Short trip. At least I think it was. Not sure. Too full of grief and rage to sense how time was passing. Not with James dead, Lily dead… Peter worse than dead… The Order of the Phoenix betrayed… 

The winding path I staggered up toward the Azkaban fortress, lined with tired, scraggly trees and huge, sea-scoured boulders. It took so much effort climbing that path. Exhaustion? Was I wearing shackles? Had I begun feeling the draining effect of the dementors? Knowing could be useful now, but I don’t remember. Did the hill rise steep before me? Can’t see it clearly. Had running sweat blurred my vision? Or maybe tears? 

Low tan walls. I walk into their shadow and the last light of day gives way to cold. Barred gates open wide to gather me in… 

Urgency dusts off what it can of cold, grey years of apathy, then begins to link the images together. How long is it since I put one thought in front of another and another til they started to look like a plan? How long since there was a reason to? Or since anything cried loud enough in my head to drown out the rustling of dementors’ robes outside my door?

Pacing. Back and forth, back and forth as the morning sun slips in to visit and leaves again, hardly noticed. The short ride. The rocky path. The low walls. Desperation finds words to fit the rhythm of my footfalls…

He’s at Hogwarts. 

I’m in prison.

You could leave here.

Don’t know how to. 

Back and forth. A dementor swishes past, pausing to push a lunch tray through a space at the bottom of the bars. I ignore them both. Amazing I can do this. Never managed it before. Must be that I’m caught up with how my thoughts flow back and forth like two people talking Maybe because some of the words sound to me like James. Like my friend James… 

Pass the bars first…

Guards will catch me. 

Not if you’re silent.

There’s a locked gate…

Climb the wall then… 

Can I do that?

Well, of course I can! When I was a kid a wall was less an obstacle than an invitation… 

Back and forth. Daylight dims. Along the hall I hear the swish of robes and the scrape of more trays sliding beneath cell doors as the dementors make their evening rounds. The sound comes closer. Harder to keep moving. So tired. Want to lie down. Wrap my blanket round me as a barricade against the growing chill of the dementors’ presence. Had I really thought escape was as easy as climbing a wall? The side of the conversation that sounded like James has gone silent. All that’s left is one more madman prisoner of Azkaban, muttering arguments with himself in the dimness. 

I’m in prison.

On an island.

He’s at Hogwarts 

On the mainland.

One step, two, three. Slower. That wall’s higher than I remembered, isn’t it? Whether I can picture it or not, the path beyond will be steep and my feet are so heavy. I hear clotted breaths in the hall. The cold reaches for my bones. Beside my cot, I gather my blanket in my arms and stand clutching the bundle. Hold its small weight to my chest.

And remember warmth.

Another memory. Stronger than those I’ve been trying to piece together. Not dampened by grief or helpless rage. The feel of a long ago smile stretching my face. A small warm weight against my heart. A proud voice. Not James now, Lily. Here, you go, Sirius. How do you like your new Godson?

My Godson? You want me to be Harry’s Godfather? I’m… I’m so honored. Yes! I’ll be his Godfather! I’ll do whatever I can to take care of him, to keep him safe…

The dementor’s breath rattles and the bundle in my arms is only an empty blanket again.

But Harry is still my Godson and he’s at Hogwarts!

I toss the blanket onto the cot as the conversation starts up again. No mad prisoner’s argument now. Harry Potter’s Godfather, making plans with his friend James. 

He’s on the mainland. 

That’s not so far.

Can you swim there? 

Can I do- what? 

Can you swim there?

Maybe… maybe… 

In my dog form…

Yes! In my dog form! I remember! Starry nights. The lake at Hogwarts! Diving in to silken water! The tug of water through fur… 

Metal trays clang on the metal serving trolley. There’s a snuffle in the hall. The gurgling sound of air sucked in… I feel its pull. The stars above the lake fade! The dementor’s found the joy I took in those late night swims. I back away into the corner beyond the door of my cell and press a hand to my head. Got to hide the picture, hold the plan deep in my mind … There may be something in it worth salvaging when I’m alone again, even if it wasn’t much of a plan. The mainland shore might be further away than I’ve judged it to be. The water here might be colder than when, as a dog, I swam the lake at Hogwarts.

In my dog form! That’s how to hide the plan! That dementor out there can’t suck my thoughts, can barely read them then! I drop to the floor and perform the one bit of my old Magic that I’ve been able to retain through all my wandless years in Azkaban. 

I crouch in the corner, my hackles rising as a tray slides beneath my cell door and clatters against the one left from lunch. Robes rustle. A long, scabby fingered grey hand snakes under the bars, explores the floor in front of me for the leftover tray. Finds it, pulls it through to the outside. A snuffling breath. The dementor must be wondering why the food’s still here. Where did the prisoner go? Has he died, maybe? Or only disappeared into madness like so many of them here do sooner or later? Must check it out. 

Keys rattle. Door slides open. A dementor slips through the gap in the bars! It’s blind, hooded face sniffs the air, black cloth fluttering with each watery breath. It moves toward the blanket I dropped onto the cot. The blanket that reminded me for a moment of Harry.

Then I see it! The opening. Small. Narrow between the bars of the wall and the bars of the door. The voice like James’s repeats in my head. 

Pass the bars first!

I’m such a big dog…

But a thin one…

Can I slip through?

It won’t catch you.

No, not if I’m silent…

Quick as that, the stony box of my cell becomes a stony tunnel of halls. No time to look back or listen for robes behind me. I’m out! Running on huge silent paws, with a dog mind to hide me from pursuit. Leaping at a pair of wooden doors that crash open at my touch. Toward a wall low enough to surround a prison on an island with no way off it. Low enough to jump with strong hind legs. Head down, shoulders pumping, I dash between boulders and zigzag through the rushing shadows and smells of trees. Bursting past the last of them, into dazzling, strange brightness, onto a rocky ledge over the sunset sheen of water… A moment to gather myself, and I’m hurtling out into emptiness! Into wind! Arrowing downward- 

Water slaps up around me, glides over my limbs and streams silken through my fur. Splashes my face. Fills my vision with prisms of broken sunset light. Red, yellow, purple, blue, like the colors that wait on the edges of a skrying bowl until the moment comes for them to flow in and form the prophetic images in its center…

But this is no bowl. It’s big. A whole skrying sea maybe, alive with shifting colors. What will they reveal as I swim across the surface? Anything about Harry? About his safety? His future? 

I don’t care what they show me! I’m not waiting around to trust his fate to the colors in a bowl! Or a sea! His safety’s far too important for that! And he’s facing so much more danger right now than anyone else knows!

Not when he’s at Hogwarts.

Not when they’re at Hogwarts.

Harry and the owner of the face in the photograph. Everyone else in the Wizarding world might believe he’s dead, but I was there! I saw what happened and I know better! Have known- if I can believe the date on the Prophet Fudge gave for twelve years now!

No pleasant memory the dementors would try to take from me. But one strong enough to break the chains of apathy and despair they use to hold their prisoners. 

That face belongs to my fellow animagus, Peter Pettigrew, in the rat shape he used to fake his death after betraying James and Lily and setting me up to take the blame for it. 

Oh, yeah, I know him all right. And I know the danger. He’s sitting fat and sassy on the shoulder of a boy called Ron Weasley, who the article says, will be a third year student at Hogwarts. I don’t know if he’s the same year as Harry or in the same House. Still, how hard is it for a rat to slip unnoticed through dim castle hallways or chinks in old stone walls? If Voldemort tries to regain power, where better to have a servant poised and ready to eliminate the last of the Potters? 

My Godson must be protected! After all those grey and useless years, I have a purpose that is mine alone to fulfill. 

Land rising before me. Closer and closer with every stroke of my paws. I’m panting now, with my muzzle raised high above the fading colors of the skrying sea. Tired. Getting so tired. But Harry- Peter- They’re at Hogwarts! 

Fresh resolve sends me surging forward out of the sea. Gasping and spitting out quantities of water, I stagger across uninterrupted sand. Feet of it. Naked yards. Unbroken by walls, by doors, by bars. No barrier to turn me back around the way I came. Huge space. Where do I hide if I need a moment to think? 

Maybe this is only the escape dream again. Years since I had it. The ground ahead looks solid, but if I step forward, will I fall through the sand and wake up on my cot in Azkaban? 

No! I won’t go back! But- it’s so big here! I turn in a circle, crossing my own footprints. Nowhere to hide! The dementors will see me! Take me back to prison. Back… Home? I stare at the island where I’ve lived for twelve years. It’s harsh and barren, but familiar. I know its desolation. But the walls will stop the sky from pressing down on me. 

And stop me, if I let myself surrender to their captivity, from protecting my Godson as well! Got to turn my shivering tail on the place and not look back. Take a step and dare the sands to hold solid against the old dream. Defy the urge to run in panic from the gaze of the sky. But a seagull’s cry sends me diving for cover in the tall grass at the edge of the beach.

Undergrowth bends beneath my pounding feet. Fills my nose with the smell of summer nights! Like those I spent out with my friends Remus and James. When open space only meant more room for adventure…

I slow. Stop. Make myself breathe the scent of grass and night blooming flowers. The memories surrounding them are deeper, older, far more familiar than the walls of Azkaban. There’s no terror in them, no despair. So why does my heart thunder and my tail quiver? 

Merlin’s Beard! I used to love these things! How could I think about trading them for the comfort of walls? How do I learn to stand unafraid again beneath the gaze of the sky?

Well, I’m going to find out how. One moment, one breath at a time if I have to. 

How else will I make my way to Hogwarts and to Harry? Or begin the journey back to my old self? I sniff long and deep. Again. Again. It’s nice. My heartbeat is slowing, my tail moving from a quiver into a grass swishing wag. I can do this…!

And the voice that sounds like James is there again. I can hear the lilt of a smile in it. 

Yes, Sirius! You can do this! 

I will! I will do this, Prongs! 

Over and over until I learn it so well it’ll be like I never forgot! And if the trip has smells like these along the way, those lessons might not be so bad. 

But that’s the future. Right now it’s almost more than I can take in, knowing I’m away from Azkaban. That I’m on the way to protect my Godson. 

In my dog form, I turn three times round and let myself sink down into the fragrant softness of long grass. In this place, in this shape, I am hidden. Nobody but Remus and Peter know I’m an animagus and they are far away. I can lie here in safety and relearn the joy of a summer night. The colors have all gone now… Most of the light too, except for a glimmer at the western horizon and some small, bright specks overhead... Stars? Could those be stars? It’s been so long, I have to think about it! So- long! I want to look at them… 

James again. Very gentle this time. 

Rest now, Padfoot. 

My head is so, so heavy. It keeps slipping down onto my paws. I want to lift it, check out those beautiful little lights… Open my eyes again…and look at them… 

James’s voice. Far away now and fading…

Sleep now old friend…

The earth beneath me still holds the last heat of the day. I can feel its welcoming warmth spreading through me, reaching all the way to my bones in the final moment before sleep overtakes me... 

* * * * * 

Well, Harry, those singing voices down the hill are growing distant. Except for this quill, ink and parchment, my few possessions are tied in a sac, ready to throw across my back. A few books, bits of the Daily Prophet and a scattered handful of parchments and envelopes filled with pieces I wrote for you or for Albus, that’s it. Good thing there’s nothing more than that to pack. I have an impatient hippogriff on my hands. Buckbeak is standing by the entrance to the cave. I can hear his feathers rustle and his foot pawing the floor as I write. He’s eager. I’ve promised him it’s only moments now til he can stretch his wings and we’ll fly together to Remus’s house.

I think I shall miss this place. It’s the first real home I’ve had after twelve years in prison and a year in the forest at Hogwarts. May sound odd, but I’m glad for that interval between leaving Azkaban and coming here. I got to be near you, even see you flying in a Quidditch match. There was a purpose to each day as I kept lookout for Peter. I had time to learn to live in open spaces again, realize that cold wind doesn’t necessarily mean a dementor is approaching. By the time I moved to this cave, I could understand that the entrance to it is also an exit, that my own reason and will, and not bars, determine my comings and goings.

Important stuff to know, though I’m not certain I’ll ever like small, confined spaces again. Don’t suppose I was ever all that fond of them, even growing up. Always wanted to know what was waiting out beyond the window or the wall. 

I know you worried, Harry, when Buckbeak and I returned to Hogsmeade after, with your help and Hermione’s, we’d managed to get ourselves safely out of the country last summer. I’d be the last to tell you that the place we stayed wasn’t wonderful. I have never been anywhere before that was so overflowing with color! You saw some of it in the plumage of the birds that carried my letters to you while you were staying at the Dursleys! It was in the flowers too, and the golden sands and wildly blue skies. Buckbeak and I shared a few flights that were more dazzlingly beautiful than I have words for! 

But my heart didn’t come with me there. It was still back in England with you. Not only because of my concern over the possible danger you face from old Lord Snake Eyes. But because I wanted to get to know that fine person I met in the Shrieking Shack and to be the best sort of Godfather to him that I can.

I imagine there are those who would say my returning here wasn’t the wisest choice I could have made. That I’d have been better off if I’d used my head and stayed abroad. Well, as I see it, there’s more to life than doing what somebody else might call the “sensible” thing. So, I followed my heart instead. Truth is, I’ve lived too many years on my own to exile myself anywhere without it. 

I’m very aware that I’ll still need to be careful here- that wanted fugitive bit I mentioned earlier. But I’ve been given the chance to move about again, to have a mission. Maybe, from Remus’s house, I can find a way to you, like I did after Azkaban. Back then, that need had more to do with your being the son of my dearest friends than with you, yourself. The last time I’d seen you, after all, you were a baby. I had no idea who the grown Harry had turned out to be. 

Now, as I’ve come to know you over the last year, that has changed. You have your Dad’s courage and your Mum’s kindness, yeah, but you have wisdom, humor and a sense of fairness that are all your own. I’m so proud and honoured to be your Godfather. And also your confidante and friend.

Better get going now. No reason to wait longer. Remus and I need to get the word out as soon as possible, and there’s no singing out there anymore. The only sound is Buckbeak’s pawing at the stone floor near the mouth of the cave. He’s almost dancing with eagerness to be gone. 

And you know as well as anyone, it’s not wise to keep a hippogriff waiting!

I’ll be thinking about you, Harry, and hoping to see, or hear from you soon! Remember, Hedwig will always know where to find me.

Your affectionate Godfather,

Sirius


End file.
